Ok. I used to live in a seriously unpleasant-feeling house. About 150 years ago, it was an orphanage, and there had been a massive fire, resulting in the deaths of a large number of children. I looked into it at the local library after some of the things that happened there happened.
It was sectioned in a rather bizarre fashion; there was a corridor upstairs leading to a locked door, behind which was another house-worth of rooms. Can you imagine how infuriating that was? Very infuriating. So, quite quickly, my sister and I forced the door open and had a look around. The first room was a massive front-room type arrangement, there was a fireplace. It was HUGE, really. There was a kitchen on the right, and a door straight ahead leading to a strange triangular room, with a very low, beamed ceiling. Something about it felt wrong straightaway. There was a short wooden staircase leading to an attic there. The attic was terrifying; I'm pretty good with spooky things but I couldn't stay there alone. It still had charred beams on the ceiling.
Downstairs was a corridor leading to the main staircase, this corridor was lined from waist-height to ceiling all the way along with mirrors. I'd stare fixedly at the floor when walking along it, I was terrified of what I might see.
I was living there with my sister and niece, Romany, who was about 2 years old at the time. She would constantly chat with things we couldn't see, how much of this was just childlike babbling I'll never know, but she often spoke of her Grandad, who had been dead for at least 10 years. That didn't scare me, as my Grandad was awesome, and I like to think it really was him.
Of course, being proper goffs, my girlfriend at the time and I adopted the locked-off bit as our own little 'flat'. Proper error, that. There were things in there, and they were not happy. I fel uncomfortable typing about it, to be honest. I changed personality completely while we were staying there, and became unpleasant and a little violent(never to a massive extent, but I did break a lot of things and shout. There was never any reason for it.). I was ill all the time there, and just felt unwelcome.
A friend of mine lives there now, the place has been refurbished, and he often reports of disturbed sleep and odd noises. I haven't told him what happened there, I might one day.
There's something in the house I'm in now, it walks up and down the corridor outside my room at night and pushes things around in the bathroom. There was a presence that would follow another ex to my house, which felt like it genuinely wished harm on me. Some friends and I messed about with EVP recordings at the skatepark we used as a rehearsal space(The Shack in Barrow-in-Furness, a Victorian textile factory, I think), and haven't spoken about what we heard since, and probably never will.
So, yeah, I reckon theres spoooky stuff out there, I just don't pretend to understand it.
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